Before and After
by felldownonce
Summary: Little one-shot filler fic following what happens to M&M after the bus crash. Not much on the romance, just relationship.


**Disclaimer**: This is written for recreational purposes. I do not own anything General Hospital related.

**Pairing**: Matt and Maxie fluff

**Setting:** Takes place after M&M return to the hospital following the bus crash.

**Rated**: T for language

**A/N:** thanks for reading

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_Before and After_

by felldownonce

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Maxie's still pissed that Lisa got her crazy-ass hands on Matt, but, he's alive, walking, talking, sporting his shiny new black cast, and sucking on a well-earned green lollipop.

He's finally got drugs in his system, pain killers, and their effects are obvious because Matt's back to his usual shuffling laid-back ease now, instead of the slightly hunched over, stiff steps he'd been displaying since the bus crash.

Stupid bus crash. Matt and his broken arm and the damn black ice replacing their impulsive ski lodge plans. Maxie keeps flashing back to it, picturing the bus crash, and dwelling on what could have been and what thank god didn't happen and especially…she's been thinking about when she first became aware of why she was lying in the snow, dazed, calling Matt's name and only getting silence in response. He wasn't moving at first, perfectly still, and for a few morbid seconds Maxie felt an indescribable panic building within her and she assumed he was dead until he eventually struggled to sit up and groaned and heaved and told her with short, sharp breathes, "My medical training tells me my arm isn't supposed to be bent this way."

"What color?" Matt asks, interrupting Maxie from her thoughts.

She looks up, confused, not sure what he's talking about. "Huh?"

Matt grins and waves his lollipop at her. He repeats his question. "What color do you want?"

He has a really…really…really nice smile. How could she possibly have not realized that sooner? Like sooner as in maybe perhaps before their bus did a Chutes and Ladders off into the ravine. Sooner as in before today, like all those other times when she'd been with him and sure, okay, he's cute enough and he can be a wonderful listener, but his smile…it's pretty amazing and really…Maxie feels stupid now, that it's taken her this long to have truly noticed it.

Well, that's not really accurate. Of course she's noticed his smile before. He's usually finding a way to somehow torment and make fun of her with it. Matt and his signature cheesy grin that's almost always plastered on his face. So yeah, sure, Maxie's noticed that Matt Hunter has a great smile.

But maybe now she's actually appreciating just how good Matt's smile makes her feel.

"Red," he says decisively, handing her a lollipop. "Definitely red."

He's evidently given up on her reaching her own decision.

"Red works. It matches your sweater. Very fashion forward."

Maxie scoffs and snatches the lollipop from his hand.

"This does not match," she corrects him, lightly tapping the lollipop on his T-shirt. "It clashes. Too much red is never a good thing."

"Well, whatever," Matt shrugs. "It's red or nothing, unless you want to share my green one. I'm relatively disease free." He points his lollipop in her direction. "Wanna' lick?"

"Yeah... no," Maxie shakes her head. "I think sharing a lollipop is disgusting and non-hygienic and I will find a way to make the red one work. After all, if anyone can manipulate the color wheel to turn in their favor, it's me."

Matt raises an eyebrow and inquires, "So….let me get this straight. Germ wise, sex in a random closet is perfectly fine but sharing a lollipop is out of the question. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with the closet sex. It was a beautiful moment. I just wanna' make sure I understand the rules of engagement."

His taunting grin is back beaming at her and in return Maxie throws him one of her glares, which is suppose to translate to annoyance but never seems to deter Matt.

"Is there a 'no sharing drinks' rule too?" he asks, twirling his lollipop. "Because if so, that might be a deal breaker for me."

Maxie should dart a clever comment back at him. It's their typical operating procedures. But instead she just stares at him.

His shirt is dirty, he's got a few nasty cuts which are still a little bloody, a broken bone, and most tragically his usually perfect hair has gone rogue. He's a mess and normally Maxie's not a big fan of the messy but right now, she's willing to settle for grimy and slightly damaged because in the grand scheme of things, it's a definite upgrade from no longer breathing.

And an upgrade is good because she had, honestly, for a few seconds in the snow, thought Matt was dead.

"Maxie?"

He's not smiling anymore, his grin replaced by a confused look she's not all that familiar with.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice low, his attention centered directly at her, and Maxie realizes it's not confusion on his face but actual, genuine, concern for her well-being.

This is new territory for her and Matt, interacting without attempting to out smartass each other. It's a little disconcerting and uncomfortable. A little too serious and too serious almost always leads to commitment and maybe they still aren't ready for this step.

Maybe she and Matt should keep their relationship just the way it always has been, with plenty of wiggle room and an Everlasting Gobstopper of vague, assumed monogamy.

She's not entirely sure if she's ready for Matt to look at her the way he's lookin' at her now.

He leans over and kisses her, once on the lips, light, barely touching, before he reaches a hand behind her head and pulls her into an intense all out kiss which eventually transitions into a hug.

He whispers into her ear, "I'm safe. You're safe. We're okay."

And for once they both just shut-up and replace their ever constant banter with a layer of quiet.

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They stop by the nurses' station for a few minutes so Matt can show off his cast and brag about his rewarded lollipop. But really Maxie knows that it's just his way of letting his big brother and Robin see that's he's fine and no sweat or big deal. Everything's all stable and no worries.

Crazy ass Lisa wanders in and confirms a positive prognosis for Matt's arm. Matt and Maxie say their goodbyes. They cruise by Cameron's room to check in on him and then go to the hospital pharmacy on the way out to pick up a couple of prescriptions Lisa has called in. Maxie grills Matt about if he has any allergies which could possibly result in a drug interaction death. When he laughs and tells her, "No. I'm sure I'll survive," Maxie tells him to shut up and reminds him that he's too trusting and they should still make sure that Lisa isn't prescribing him something deadly. Matt points out that he's a doctor and he'd probably be able to figure that out but she rejects his input.

"She's a psycho bitch," Maxie explains to the pharmacist, as if that's an actual explanation, before pestering him to double check the medication to make sure it's actually what Lisa told them it would be.

It is.

One pill bottle for pain, one pill bottle with a precautionary antibiotic.

Before Matt can take the bag from the pharmacist's hand, Maxie grabs it.

She points at his good arm. "You need that hand for your lollipop and you're not supposed to carry anything with your broken arm."

"Maxie. Seriously," Matt says, sounding amused and a tad bit condescending, "I highly doubt a paper bag that weighs ten ounces is going to result in a recovery set-back."

She ignores him and off they go towards the hospital exit.

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"Well, clearly we are taking my car," Maxie announces as they enter the parking garage. "Because if you think you're driving around with one hand you're delusional."

She stops walking and demands, "In fact, give me your car keys. I'm confiscating them until that cast comes off. People die all the time from driving while casting."

"What?" Matt asks. "That's ridiculous. That's...you totally just made that up. Do you have any statistical data to prove this 'driving while casting' theory of yours?"

"No," Maxie rapid fires back. "But I do have two shoes and I will take one of them off and beat you with it if you do not give me your car keys. I just sat on a rock with you for five hours, in freezing cold weather, hoping we'd be rescued before you keeled over from shock or hypothermia or something else medically horrible and I did not do that just to have you kill yourself while gallivanting around Port Charles all with your cocky, _Look at me, I'm the one and only Dr. Matt Hunter and I only need one hand to drive' _attitude_."_

Matt tilts his head to the side and looks at her with bemusement. "Gallivanting? Really? You've specifically seen me gallivant?"

"Are you going to force me to take off a shoe?" she hisses at him. "Because I will."

"Okay, alright," Matt says. "Keep your shoes…shoe…on. You win."

He digs his car keys out of his jeans pocket. Before handing them over to her he warns her, "But this isn't over. This is a temporary concession because you are acting nutty right now and I'm physically at a disadvantage."

She plucks the keys out of Matt's hand and resumes a determined march towards her car. When they reach it, Maxie rushes to open his door for him and Matt just smiles and laughs to himself before thanking her and easing himself into the passenger seat.

It's not until she starts the car and turns up the heater that she realizes just how tired she is. Exhausted. Depleted. Drained.

And if she didn't physically feel bad enough, her super cute fluffy white coat is a total loss.

Stupid bus crash.

"I am officially in charge of making the next travel plans," she announces and waits for Matt's response.

Which he doesn't offer because…he's mostly already asleep. He looks pale and pitiful and cold. He still hasn't put his sweatshirt back on and his winter coat is long gone, a trophy presented to Cameron in acknowledgement of his outstanding hiking skills.

Her heater isn't all that warm and Maxie thinks maybe she might have a blanket in her trunk for the idiot next to her who has no common sense concerning broken limbs and exposure to the cold.

If he was awake, he'd probably make fun of her and go into some doctorish explanation about how needing a blanket is completely unnecessary, but he's asleep, so too bad. She uses her clicker to pop the trunk, gingerly opens her door, and circles around to the back of the car. There is indeed a blanket in there. Mac makes her keep a winter survival kit, of which, Maxie is currently grateful for. She starts to close the trunk but then stops. Matt's car keys are in her coat pocket and what a wonderful place to hide them, here in her trunk. So she tosses them underneath a box of fabric samples and smirks' to herself and attempts to close the trunk without causing too much noise.

Ha! She has won. He can harass her all he wants. Cast equals no keys for him.

She'll volunteer to get him to and from work every day. Her hours are somewhat flexible. It's doable. There are always taxis or Robin or Patrick. And she doesn't really care if hiding his keys from him comes off as controlling or overprotective because that's too damn bad. She's warned him what he was getting into, wanting to be with her, and he still keeps asking her out anyway.

Maxie manages to open Matt's door without waking him. Wow, those pain pills must be damn effective. She spreads the blanket over him and uses her best ninja eavesdropping sneaking skills to reenter the car. When she exits the parking garage it dawns on her that she and Matt didn't discuss where they were going. It's not like they have a casual routine of spending the night in each other's apartments. Up until now their locations of choice have been the dock, Jakes, the Museum of Modern Art, and a random General Hospital supply closet.

Sitting in traffic, she has time to mull over her destination and she decides that she's going to take him home to her apartment. There. Decision made.

But…that's another first step into commitment territory. Matt's a great guy and she shouldn't be doubting if she's ready to officially take their relationship to the next level but she is…still doubting. It's too soon since Spinelli. Matt shouldn't be reduced to the rebound guy. But, no, they've already discussed this. She was over Spinelli as a lover way before her and Spinelli were actually over. Matt isn't the rebound default. She picked him for him and not because he's not something she doesn't want. And he already told her that she's perfect just the way she is so why is it so hard for her to take the plunge?

It's because she's forever flawed and doomed to doom everything involving meaningful relationships.

But, whatever. She too tired to keep thinking about it.

Matt may not want to admit it but he shouldn't be alone tonight. He's loaded up on pain medication not to mention the broken arm. And although he appears to think it's no big deal, Maxie does. She thinks it's a really, really big deal because every time she looks at his broken arm what she's really seeing is him lying in the snow, quiet, and not moving.

So she'll take him to her apartment, put him on the couch, and then just check on him once in a while. All very innocent. Nothing at all to indicate significant commitment. They've both just been through hell and a little continued companionship is totally in order.

When they reach her driveway, Maxie shuts off the car and sits there for a second. What's happening now is in a way like that time she bought her first Prada's. The open-toed ones, each with a little bow, and they cost $500.00 and she almost didn't take them out of the car because she couldn't believe she had actually bought them and if someone figured it out, how in the world was she going to justify spending that much.

So now Matt's her newest pair of Prada's. She's watching him sleeping and wondering if she really wants to actually bring him in the house. Is this what she really wants to do and is she prepared for the consequences and what if in the morning or a week or a month she has buyer's regret? Can she justify this relationship to anyone, like Spinelli or Mac or anyone else who might think she carelessly broke Spinelli's heart and has simply rushed on to her next victim?

"Where are we?"

Matt's awake, his head rolled in her direction. He tugs the blanket up to his chin and shivers.

"My apartment," she tells him, doing her best to sound casual. "I figured since your apartment was probably a gross, icky man place and you'd stumble over stuff on the floor and break your other arm, I would bring you here instead. I am immaculate."

"That's a total lie," he says. "I've seen how you live. I'm much tidier."

"That was different," Maxie insists. "When you lived in Mac's house you had to keep it clean because if you didn't Mac would have killed you. I'm sure now that you aren't under his supervision you live in chaos. Food all over. Smelly."

"Okay, you know what?" Matt asks. "I'm honestly not 100% coherent right now. I don't want to fight over cleanliness. I just want to go back to sleep."

He closes his eyes. Maxie gives him a nudge.

"Wake up. We're going inside. You can sleep on the couch and I can make sure you don't suffocate or something."

Matt opens a single eye. "Suffocate?"

"Well," she reasons, "You could fall off the couch and further injure yourself or something like that. And you know some people actually do die from freak furniture accidents."

Matt shakes his head back and forth and asks, "Are these the same people who die from driving while casting? Because maybe their dead just because of stupidity and it has nothing to do with a broken arm or suffocating on couches."

Maxie's out of witty comebacks so instead she just owns up to the truth. "Look, I know I seem ridiculous to you sometimes and I know you think that it's no big deal that your arm is broken and I'm over-reacting. But I'm worried, okay? People I care about have this habit of dying and you could have really been seriously injured today, like Olivia, or dead like the bus driver and maybe you will have a reaction to some of the medication Lisa just prescribed or something like that and…"

"Maxie," Matt interrupts. "Alright. Thank you. I appreciate your concerns and you know what? You're right. I could have a reaction or something so, absolutely, I'll crash at your place just to be safe."

He gives her one of those smiles, a little one, but the effect is just the same. It makes her feel safe. Good about herself. Special.

She tells him, "You're just saying that to placate me."

He nods. "Yes, this is true. But we're both exhausted and I think it's amazing that you have dedicated yourself to making sure I do not die a horrible, freak death. So let's just go inside and get some sleep and again, thank you, for caring about me."

The effects of being tossed from a bus and tumbling down the ravine are taking their toll. They are both sore and stiff in places they weren't directly sore and stiff in immediately following the accident.

Maxie leaves Matt on the couch with her Mac provided survival blanket and a glass of cold water to wash his pills down with and she goes into her bedroom to change into pajamas.

She stands in front of her full length mirror for a second and counts the bruises. She's going to have to skip wearing short dresses for a while. Or anything sleeveless. Or anything that doesn't involve a big bulky sweater. That's just great. It's not like a big part of her job depends on her appearance or anything. Only wait, it totally does.

She slips on a pair of flannel pajamas that she keeps around for the nights when she's sad about Georgie and just wants to be comfortable and warm and reminded about the last Christmas they were together and her sister gave her the pajamas as a joke, because the last thing Maxie Jones would ever be caught dead in would be matching flannel pajamas with ice skating penguins on them. Poor Matt. He survived a major motor vehicle accident only to be exposed to her bruised up, flannel penguin wearing self.

Matt.

That's right.

Enough of her own pity party. She basically held him hostage to get him to stay here and now she's neglecting him. She goes into the living room only to find him sleeping while sitting up, the glass of water drained and propped against the side of the couch.

He needs some sheets and a better blanket. She's pretty sure Lulu keeps some in the hallway closet. Matt makes a strange little sleeping noise and starts to list over and instead of continuing down the hallway, Maxie turns around and plunks herself down beside him on the couch.

Sure, she's a mess of bruises but underneath his jeans and T-shirt, he has to be worse. His face certainly is. And he's still really pale, which she doesn't like one bit and if that stupid bitch Lisa missed something that could be wrong with him, Maxie will hunt her down and kill her with whatever is the most painful means possible. If he still looks this washed out in the morning, she's going to ask Robin to stop by and check him out. Make sure he's still okay.

"I'm glad you're alive," she tells him, even though he sleeps through her proclamation.

She makes a decision.

No extra sheets.

No bigger blanket.

She has a perfectly good bed that sleeps two and if this means that they wake up in the morning to a different level in their relationship, then so be it. If it happens it happens and Maxie finds herself a little less concerned that doom is imminent and a little more willing to accept the possibility of a healthy relationship.

"Matt," she says quietly, "Come on. Let's go to bed. You'll be more comfortable."

It takes him a minute to wake up and then a minute more to disengage himself from the blanket and get off the couch.

She leads him by his good arm to the bedroom, assisting him from stumbling, because she's not quite sure if he's actually fully awake. Exhaustion combined with the pills have made him extra groggy and entirely too compliant. She's relatively sure she could put him in the middle of traffic and he wouldn't notice. They reach the mattress and Maxie tells Matt to stay standing for a second while she unbuttons his jeans. He's a boxer guy. She knows that from the General Hospital closet encounter and boxers are basically shorts and shorts are a lot more comfortable to sleep in than muddy jeans. She already has the jeans halfway down his legs before Matt asks, "Are you taking my pants off?"

"Yes," she tells him. "Because there is no way you're wearing those dirty jeans in my bed."

He seems fine with the jeans things and moves on to a confused, "I'm sleeping in your bed?"

"Yes," she answers. She sits him down on the mattress, finishes with the jeans, and then carefully and very slowly helps him remove his T-shirt. Despite the pain pills, he grimaces a few times when he has to raise his arm up but between the two of them, they manage to get it off.

She was right about the bruises. Just like her, he's got them here and there, scattered about.

But bruises and a broken arm and facial lacerations aside, he's still hot. Dr. Hunter is a fine piece of ass. She could do a whole lot worse. Actually, she has done a whole lot worse, but never mind that.

Matt seems a little more awake then when they started the process and he blinks a few blurry blinks at her before asking, "Are you wearing penguins?"

"So what," she replies defensively. "I realize this might not be the most flattering night wear but it's comfortable and I have been traumatized today and I'm allowed to slack off in the fashion department."

"I'm not judging," he says through a yawn, "Just seeking clarification."

Maxie pulls the covers down and Matt doesn't seem the least bit concerned that he's about to climb into bed with her. Laid back as always, he's just going with the flow. He asks for an extra pillow to rest his broken arm on and after a few minutes of grimacing and repositioning, he's pretty sure he's comfortable enough to allow sleep.

"Do you need anything? " Maxie asks. "More water?"

Matt shakes his head no before resting his healthy forearm over his eyes and Maxie takes that as a cue that it's time to turn the lights off. He's already starting to dose, basically no longer communicating, and she wonders if he hasn't already fallen asleep until his good arm reaches out for her. She takes a deep breath. She can do this. She can take a chance at this relationship.

She's pretty sure now, after everything they have gone through, that her and Matt can be more than just two smartasses having periodic hot sex in closets.

Maxie wants to do this, be with Matt on a different level, so she reaches out and accepts his hand and crawls into bed with him. She fits in just fine, with his not broken arm around her and her head on his chest. She lies perfectly still, trying not to jostle him.

Weary of his injuries she asks, "Am I hurting you?"

"No," Matt answers, pulling her a little tighter and kissing the top of her head. "Just the opposite."

And in that instant, Maxie's pretty sure it's official.

There's a new couple in Port Charles.


End file.
